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<title>A postcard from my headscape where it is grim by twoofdiamonds</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799281">A postcard from my headscape where it is grim</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoofdiamonds/pseuds/twoofdiamonds'>twoofdiamonds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Poetry, Gen, Poetry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:46:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoofdiamonds/pseuds/twoofdiamonds</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A postcard from my headscape where it is grim</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Swimming's a thing:</p><p>He's getting quite good. There's a club</p><p>Twice-a-week and serious stuff, and we'd get the bus</p><p>(to freedom; to look for America)</p><p>But they've cut the service.</p><p> </p><p>How far is the sun now?</p><p>A children's party away? Two?</p><p>It’s always hard to believe in spring,</p><p>But this year I’m not sure I want it;</p><p>The sun shedding its light</p><p>                   on politics; on the spirit of the place; on my face.</p><p>How should a responsible adult behave anyway?</p><p> </p><p>I see families passing through, from Sweden, from New Zealand,</p><p>Five months at the school and thinking we're crazy</p><p>To live here: indigenous Brits, in this semi-twilight of 21st century fascism,</p><p>And they're right.</p><p>(One of the dads rides a chrome-encrusted beast;</p><p>I think he’s from Sweden via Hong Kong)</p><p> </p><p>That business about Mycroft “being” the British Government,</p><p>It seemed silly at the time,</p><p>But now we have Dom,</p><p>And a winter of discontent to inspire the artist.</p><p>Stephen King's latest might be his greatest:</p><p>With their choice of Fresh Hells the demons roam large.</p><p> </p><p>And oh, to sleep the sleep of the no-longer-invested.</p><p>While we stock up on antiviral herbs,</p><p>The school are celebrating ‘global week,’</p><p>And another charter flight leaves us.</p><p>I lie in bed listening to stories about soulmates.</p><p>It’s a Hilarity of Contradictions; a joke worthy of James O'Barr.</p><p> </p><p>But at least January’s Brexit moon has past</p><p>(which I re-named Headache Moon).</p><p>Like that thing in the sky,</p><p>The one that appeared in December masquerading as the Christmas Star.</p><p>Did somebody launch a space station covered in mirrors?</p><p>It's too bright; watching. Looking for freedom (for America).</p><p>I find it disturbing.</p><p> </p><p>The big brother I wished for might have been a mistake.</p><p>This second moon (although less of a headache)</p><p>Is stark and staring; and it’s still watching us now as it wanes.</p><p> </p><p>I won’t love him.</p><p> </p><p>They should deport the PM with his nosegay of coke,</p><p>To the land of the free (for the price of a hospital wing).</p><p> </p><p>Sitting here at work I often think of you,</p><p>Driving through a rainstorm in your little blue car.</p><p>And of those we have lost,</p><p>And those we will never meet.</p><p>I went to see someone else’s father playing in a band.</p><p>They played Del Amitri and it felt about right.</p><p> </p><p>Drive carefully: they’re cutting the road gritters too</p><p>(but only on the council estates for now).</p><p>This is a postcard from my headscape where it is grim;</p><p>Misty and damp.</p><p>Perhaps there will be daffodils soon, on the other side of the bridge,</p><p>And we'll all nod along in eye-watering yellow.</p>
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